


The Old Closet Door

by IronWarriors



Category: Monsters Inc. (Movies), Monsters University
Genre: Feel-good, Multi, Other, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:42:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29832729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronWarriors/pseuds/IronWarriors
Summary: Monsters Inc x (GENDERFLUID) Reader! No, no dirty things will happen. Just some soft, happy content with all of your favorite monsters! Revisiting Disney movies I used to love has been a treat, and honestly, I feel like there should be a book out there for you all to reach into and relinquish and relish in the memories of it all; starting with Monsters Inc. :)
Relationships: James P. "Sulley" Sullivan/Reader, Mike Wazowski/Reader, Randall Boggs/Reader
Kudos: 2





	The Old Closet Door

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I'm Dingo, and some of you may recognize this work from Wattpad. Due to the platform and site having gone so far down hill to the point where content creators are essentially pushed out or feel undermined, I have decided to move platforms and take all my works with me.  
> Hopefully the people of AO3 like it! :)) ♡♡

No matter your age, no matter your mental state, no matter your burdens; there will always be a safe space you will visit. A place you can always feel most at home and calm.  
Many would say it's a library, or a park. Many would answer their very safe place was within their music or their bed caked in blankets. But for you, it's the comfort of your closet. Yes, you read that right. Your closet; where you hang your coats, jackets, fancy shirts, and ties. Where you keep all your shoes in a bin beside your box of trinkets and stashed memorabilia. Where your old books and hats seem to collect on a shelf up high above the rack.  
You find comfort in that little nook, where you seem to lose all your socks and missing pens seem to gravitate toward.  
That is where you feel most at peace. Your parents used to giggle and chortle when you had always been found hiding in that very spot in the closet, the little nook to the right. You were little and expected to be full of silly curiosity and inagination; but as time passed, you never seemed to grow out of the comfort you found within that very corner of your closet. It was always so cozy in there; not too cold, not too hot. Small, but not constricting. You felt hidden; safe. But from what? You were never sure.  
All you knew was that that was your space, and that was where you felt best.  
In the cozy little nook to the right of your little closet. Never did you think that your closet would you one day open to rest, only to come face to face with many faces and a vast open room of tile and tables. Large and small eyes, fur, scales, and many arms alike; three fingers to two.  
But the face that drew you in the most was the tallest mountain of a creature you'd ever seen. One you'd only see in a children's story book. A thick coat of blue fur and scraggly purple spots, heavy arms and paws far bigger than your face, a strong, big chin and tusks that poked out from his bottom lip; intimidating, large, a _beast._  
But he was a beast with the kindest eyes your eyes had ever had the pleasure to meet.

* * *

Jobs are a part of becoming an adult. Jobs signify you will always get the money you need to keep alive; having food on the table, having electricity to see in late hours of the night, having water to run warm showers, ect.  
Though it costs you energy and labor to take on a job, it is said to always be rewarding in the end. As an upcoming adult, you were sure you could snatch up a good job that hopefully paid a little bit over minimum wage. You had confidence, and the files in hand to help you qualify and show your skills, and endless support from friends and family that you could get any job you wanted.  
You felt bad that that turned out to be untrue. After the first shutdown, you couldn't help but answer to yourself that it was no big deal, and that you would rather not do dishes daily for the next four years of your life. You were sure you could get the next job, nail it to perfection- but once again the little light of hope and confidence you held dear started to dim and dwindle to nothing but a charred candle wick. It shouldn't have made you feel so sad, so hopeless; but it had. With each interview, it was always the same. Either someone had already taken on the position, or they weren't looking for a person such as yourself.  
Place after place, restaurant, bookstore, clerk counter, hotels- anywhere you could find! You had been walking and jogging all around that you could feel the sore ache begin to start under your heel and toes. It wasn't a fun, or sleepy tingling, either. It was nothing but aching, and you could feel the weakness begin to turn your legs to jelly.  
With sad limp hands, and a heavy heart, you slipped your phone from your pocket and into your palm. With a click, you watched as the screen lit up and came to life, flashing the brilliant white numbers you hoped to see. It read loud and clear; 5:43 PM. You'd been out early since 7:15, and despite all those hours, none of them felt like they were spent wisely. You caught yourself wishing for nothing but to crawl into your closet with a cat and blanket and never to come back out.  
"Darn it," You whispered to the open air as you stalked the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding and dodging the shoulders of others. Quickly you slid your phone back into your warmly lined coat pocket and continued on, adjusting your fabric mask your mother sewn out of an old curtain from Goodwill.  
You could still feel the jagged thread jutting uncomfortably into the bridge of your nose. She was no seamstress, but to have it at the very least was a blessing. As you walked, though begrudgingly like a grumpy old troll with a limp, you noted the absurd amount of others who bore no mask. You wondered if the reason your unluckiness to score a job was because of the current pandemic; it felt plausible. But you knew that wasn't the main reason. People tended to act as though it never existed, even now at the height of Hospital admissions. They just didn't seem to care. You wanted to sigh out loud for the hundredth time, but by then you worried someone would look at you like you were mental or sickly. You took a chance to glance at the sky as you stepped up towards a cross walk, doing your best to distance yourself with the group that cluttered towards the edge in anticipation to walk across the second the light showed any sign of change. The sky was always so pretty if you got past the towering buildings and lines that strung from one end to the next. By now, it had passed from evening and moved towards night. You could barely see the filters of purple and midnight blue, transition into a deep ebony. The sky remained an overall warm orange like a candle light, but you could tell by the drop in the air it wouldn't be long until the sky turned black and filtered in the stars. At the sound of scuffling feet and chatter, you noted everyone was moving on across the street, no less without you. The countdown was quick, as always. The city favored its cars moreover than its pedestrians, so if you wanted to make it across, you had to near sprint with your already aching feet. It wasn't even past five seconds as someone in a little white car honked at you, causing you to stumble in the middle of the street before picking up the pace. You would be sure to keep his license plate on your list.  
It didn't take long before you made it to the subway entrance, down the steps of peril, through the gates of impatience, the crowded corridor of disease, and finally the fast box of quiet self questioning. It took awhile, seeing as social distancing on the subway was and is a lot harder than you would have liked- but the wait was worth while. You had been riding for twenty minutes, stop after stop. The once crowded box car eventually felt almost abandoned as the day finally transitioned to the night hours, where people returned from bad dates, or exhausting shifts. It was a quiet time, simply sitting in far places, nearest to the edge of the seats and close to the bars. Something to hold onto was nice when the world was overwhelming.  
You had no headphones, and not enough battery power to keep yourself distracted, so for most of the ride you found yourself thinking. Thinking, thinking, and _thinking_. You wished you could turn your brain off, for just a moment- but it was a lot harder when you focused on trying too. Even the soft _b-thmp, b-thmp, b-thmp,_ of the train car hadn't lulled you or eased your nerves. Even the passing lights in the subway tunnel didn't give you some sort of ethereal daydreaming state. Just thoughts.  
You couldn't help but groan aloud. Eyebrows screwed together in your own frustration, you flopped down across the train car seat, the long, hard yellow plastic jutting into your back from the dips and grooves of each rear end that came to pass through its holding care. With your feet kicked up and over the barrier, you swished your toes here, and there. God you were so tired!  
Why couldn't things just go your way? Were you life's way of comedy relief?  
Gosh you hoped not- because you were in no mood to have pie in your face next episode.  
"UGHH! There I go _again!_ "  
Your sudden outburst was quick to startle to silent day dreamers not far from you. Though there were only five people sitting in the same cart as you, you could already see them working to find ways to either ignore your misery, or get away. With a sheepish glance, you made eye contact with a woman with soft caramel skin, rich brown curls and electrifying hazel eyes. She looked as though she could have been a model the way she sat and appeared, and you found your face suddenly grow hot with embarrassment.  
"U-uhm... Sorry?..." You murmured out, forcing your shoulders up in a shrug. Her gaze never left you, and you could see the quirk of an awkward smile meet her features.  
"Yeah, uh, okay. I dunno what you're going through baby cakes, but uhm, could you be a little quieter?..." She did her best to be polite about it, but even she seemed painfully disturbed by the current scenario. You of course, no better. In fact, you were sure your skin had officially met the scientific melting point where it would slip from you're muscle tissue like goo. You felt yourself inwardly grimace, sucking your lips into your mouth and forcing off a nervous nod.  
"Yeah, yeah, good idea..." And with that, you flipped over to face the back of the seating. Slowly you peeled your legs from hanging over the edge of the barrier and curled into yourself, rather painfully might you add. You just wanted to be small, so small no one would care, or see you. This day just felt like a curse, and lord were you ready to be cleansed of it.

By the time the next stop was called, you had already shot to your feet and hurried off the car onto the bear empty platform. Up you went, back through the corridors of disease, through the gates of impatience, and back up the stairs of peril- this time, they were just a crumbly as your inner confidence, which had been stomped on so much as of today you were even your heart had shoe prints.  
Not long did it take for you to make it home, in the more rural and quiet part of New York. A steady hill is where your little house sat, yellow peeling panels, a creaky old porch with a swing, and your mother's hanging pots that died last spring. Never had you felt so relieved to appear upon your own doorstep, to see the cute little mat with the smiling bears and flowers, turned gray and brown from muddy shoes both yours and your cousins alike. Even opening the door was like entering heaven, a safe chapel. Even as you trudged through the hall, past the living room, through the dining room where your parents shared a cup of tea and coffee together- it all felt so calm. They made effort to greet you, but to their surprise, you made no effort to reply back. Instead, you continued on your trek around the island and to the fridge, pulling free a happy jug of apple juice and a mason jar from the cupboard. Even as they did their best to start conversation, you merely stood there, looking like a brainwashed zombie, gently sipping your apple juice from a cup far bigger than your hands could really hold. But you didn't seem to mind.  
Eventually, you did usher your way towards the table before them, slowly pulling a chair out with a screech and hunkering down. Your parents merely watched you in both concern and interest, but not saying a word. The silence was overbearing, but the sound of your simple sips of apple goodness seemed to be far more so.  
"So uh, you gonna tell us how your hunt went, sport?" Your mother piped in, a nervous grin upon her features as she held her hands clasped together under her chin. You stared dully at the center piece, a small ceramic blue bird and its napkin feathers. You took another sip before settling your cup down off to the side. There was a long pause- a very tense pause. Your parents leaned forward in anticipation, and you could have sworn your father started to nip at his own nails. But you did something rather unexpected.  
Without warning, you dropped your head against the table top, creating a loud bang. Your parents shot out to grab at the cups that jostled and bounced from the impact, and in their startled state and relief nothing broke, they turned to you in surprise.  
Your only response to anything, even your own actions, was a simple word that made them sigh and shake their heads;  
" _Terrible_."


End file.
